


A Swamp for All Seasons

by justalittlegreen



Series: Sunshine and Filth [10]
Category: MASH (1970), MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-17 09:33:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16513796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/pseuds/justalittlegreen
Summary: the year in which you get used to the things you'll never get used to





	1. Winter

_Hawkeye?_

_mrrrrrgh._

_Hawkeye, my leg fell asleep._

_Well, at least one of us is. Look, if I move any further, I'm either going to fall out or freeze._

_Nonsense. You're too full of hot air for either to happen. You'll float. Toastily._

_Hey, isn't it your turn to put wood in the stove?_

_That's what you said the last two times. I'm not moving._

_Fine. I'll do it._

BJ groans as Hawk hauls himself out from under the covers, letting a blast of icy air in. The only good thing about a Korean winter is the assumption that everyone's trying not to freeze. The nurses, much to Hawkeye's endless appreciation, have been doubling up, too. They try not to be obvious about it, but they know Radar's seen them a couple of times. Bless that little clerk, he hasn't said a word.

Hawkeye shoves a log into the heater. BJ watches him in the flickering light, enjoying the easy way Hawk has about the stove. BJ's only experience with fires is with Boy Scout jamborees in the Sierras, but Hawk grew up with one of these things in his living room, and their fire rarely burns down. He has an uncanny sense of how long they can let it burn, then revive it just before it goes out. He takes deep breath and blows steadily on the embers to wake them, ripping a few pages from the old cardiology text to get things going.

 _How can you burn that?_ BJ asks for the fourteenth time.  _It's got your heart and soul in it. Don't you want to keep it?_

 _I'd rather keep my toes,_ Hawk answers, distracted by the coals.  _Besides, I stopped writing in it months ago. What do I need it for, now that I can tell you everything?_

Only he hasn't. He hasn't told BJ about the letter he sent to Peg three months ago, hasn't told him because she never wrote back. As far as he can tell, she hasn't hinted of anything wrong to BJ, though he doesn't share every single letter with Hawkeye. It's driving him crazy, not knowing if the woman hates him, or just doesn't care. Maybe she never even got the letter. In his worst moments, Hawkeye lies awake imagining Peggy burning it at the stove and telling her friends how some fairy has become obsessed with her husband. 

But it's winter, and BJ isn't prepared, after a life in California, for the way the wind cuts to the bone and the snow builds up in every crevice of The Swamp. He's miserable, and it shows. He's gotten so cold he doesn't even care about getting caught with Hawkeye in his bed, though Hawk does his best not to take too great advantage of the situation.

BJ shivers - adorably - and buries his head - even more adorably - under the Army-issue blanket. When he speaks, his voice is muffled.

_You need to get back under here. I'm close to hypothermia._

Hawkeye grins.  _Normally, I'd ask you to buy me dinner before letting you turn me into your personal space heater._

_That's a lie. You've never needed an incentive to get under my covers._

Despite the cold, Hawkeye feels something flutter in his chest. He leaps up from the stove and dives back onto the cot, nearly knocking BJ off. They usually sleep on their sides, Hawkeye's back to BJ's chest, but he squirms and maneuvers himself to face the taller man, sliding an arm under BJ's neck. BJ obliges, nuzzling Hawk's collar. 

_Don't read too much into this; I just can't feel my nose anymore._

Hawkeye responds by dipping his head and gently catching BJ's nose in his teeth. It's a goofball move, but a tender one, and BJ chuckles low in his throat.  _Hey, I need that._  

Hawkeye lets him go and moves in for a kiss. BJ leans into it, wishing his arms were freer so he could tangle them in Hawk's hair.He knows how much Hawkeye loves that, how he moans when BJ grips him by the roots and pulls him closer. The last time they made it to the supply closet was weeks ago. BJ had told Hawk to be waiting for him so that he could come in and drag Hawk halfway across the room by the hair, just to hear him gasp, before swallowing it all in a kiss. Neither of them has shaved in days, and the kiss is rough and bristly, and - undeniably - warming.

Hawk grips the back of BJ's neck, feels him stirring against him - BJ is such a beautiful, wanton animal when he's lust-crazed - and responds by reaching his free hand between them. There are too many layers of clothes for such tight quarters, and it takes Hawkeye's nimble fingers a minute to find their target. They are conditioned to be quiet, the clattering of the stove barely loud enough to cover them. Hawk delicately traces the bulge in BJ's pajamas with barely enough pressure for BJ to even feel it, but he knows. He bites Hawk's lip to keep from crying out, pushing his hips forward for more. Hawk smiles. He's got him where he wants him.

He finds BJ's waistbands - all three of them - and deftly slips hs hand down, running his fingers through the thatch of coarse hair. He pulls on it gently, which makes BJ's eyes roll in the back of his head - Hawk knows he's fighting to keep from making a sound - and then wraps his fingers around BJ, marveling, doing his best to find a rhythm to stroke in such tight quarters. BJ buries his head in the pillow / Hawkeye's shoulder, panting with need, daring to let small, mewling sounds escape into the cloth.

 _shhh_ Hawkeye croons as he pumps his hand as fast as he dares, but he's panting too, mouth right at BJ's ear, and BJ twitches with every hot breath, racing for the edge, desperate and wanting and needing just the slightest bit more friction. He turns his head ever so slightly away from the pillow and breathes the magic word into Hawkeye's neck.

_please. pleeease. oh, please, oh please oh -_

Hawkeye will never tire of feeling BJ Hunnicutt come apart under his hands. The combination of feeling BJ come and the friction of the back of his hand against his own body as he strokes BJ is enough to send him over the edge, too, clenching his teeth holding back the howl that threatens to escape his throat. 

 _Damn,_ BJ Hunnicutt is beautiful when he loses himself.

Hawk slowly extracts his hand from BJ's pants, flexing his wrist and stretching his fingers. BJ sighs and rolls over, offering his back to Hawkeye, for once. The fire is at its peak now - it will take hours to burn down - and as Hawk slowly drifts off with his arms around BJ, he marvels at the fact that they've managed to break a sweat in the middle of a snowstorm.


	2. Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> angst. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaangst. Also, Hawk's darker side.

Spring announces itself with a snowstorm for the ages. The O.R. is the warmest place in camp, and they're still operating with their scrub caps snugly around their ears. They pack the patients in whatever they have. Hawkeye sometimes comes back from Post-Op without his coat, and BJ knows he's tucked it around some kid who didn't look warm enough for Hawkeye's liking. On those nights, there's no room for anything but survival. Not even the presence of Frank Burns can keep Hawk and BJ out of each other's cots.

_Are you really going to sleep like that? Disgusting!_

_Don't worry, Frank, tomorrow night's my turn to sleep with you._

_That's unbecoming of an officer of the United States Army! That's a threat to order and morale!_

_**You're** the biggest threat to order and morale within a thousand miles of Pyongyang. Make your choice, Frank: am I bunking with BJ or with you?_

_\- Oh please, do take him, Frank, he hogs the covers._

_No, that's just your giant feet taking more than their fair share._

With enough ribbing, they've managed to keep Frank down, but they don't dare try anything more. BJ knows there's a part of Hawk that would find particular delight in trying not to squirm while BJ palms him through his boxers, but both of them are too exhausted to find much fun in risk-taking. For once, their intentions are (mostly) pure.

Hawk hasn't dragged BJ to Supply in a couple of weeks, and BJ misses him fiercely. There's been an uptick in 12-hour OR shifts, but normally, that wouldn't stop Hawkeye's unflaggable energy. The last few months have had more than their fair share of illicit adventures, especially in the manic hour after a marathon run of casualties, while the adrenaline clears their systems. While the substance of their encounters hasn't changed much (BJ is dying to get his mouth on Hawk, but hasn't figured out how to ask), the mood ranges from playful to tender to - at times - rough.

 

 

(BJ knows Hawk's still carrying the remnants of bruises from half a month ago. It was the first time he let BJ get near him after losing a patient. Normally, he'd just go on a bender at Rosie's and drink himself until he couldn't feel it anymore, but the shelling was too heavy, and Rosie's was closed. Hawkeye gave the signal to meet him in Supply, and, when BJ arrived, kissed him so roughly he nearly split BJ's lip.   
  
BJ yanked him back by the hair in response -  _what the hell, Hawk? -_ and Hawkeye let out the most pain-choked scream BJ had ever heard. Hawk struggled and thrashed and clawed at BJ's back until he wrestled Hawk to the ground and pinned him, knees squeezing at those narrow hips and pinning Hawk's wrists over his head so he couldn't hurt either of them while Hawk cried and begged  _please, please. Just hit me. Knock me out. I can't take this. I could have saved him. I could have saved him._

It took an hour for BJ to calm him down enough to sleep, eventually releasing his hold, and folding a now-boneless Hawk into his arms and kissing his forehead.  _No, you couldn't have. I was there. You did everything._  

_Everything isn't enough. I don't deserve you._

_That's nonsense. I need you. You're my way through this, remember?_ )

 

Hawkeye should've never given her a deadline, but it's fixed in his mind, now - if Peg doesn't reply to his letter by the first days of spring, he has to assume the worst. He can't be responsible for ruining BJ's marriage, his home, his  _life._ What kind of monster would demand that kind of sacrifice - give up your heaven so we can enjoy Hell a little on the side? Every time BJ opens one of Peg's frequent letters, Hawkeye holds his breath, wondering if this is the moment the axe falls.

But it's been months, and no replies, and spring has finally begun to arrive, and there's no excuse to hold each other in the dark and cold anymore. They quietly resign themselves to sleeping apart again.

And when the first buds appear on the trees, and no letter has come, Hawkeye makes up his mind. He finds Colonel Potter in his office and makes the request.

_What's wrong, Pierce?_

_Colonel, I'm deadly serious, okay? I'm requesting a transfer out of The Swamp._

_You're going to have to give me a reason. Something wrong with you and Hunnicutt?_

_No, it's - uh, it's Frank. I can't stand his patriotic buffonery anymore. I almost caught myself humming the national anthem in the shower the other day and contemplated comitting hara-kiri with my toothbrush._

_Pierce, you're going to have to do better than that. I know Burns isn't the prize in this crackerjack box, but you've put up with him this long, and you'll put up with him til the end, whatever that is. What's this really about?_

_I just...please, Colonel, I need a way out._

Potter regards him with the kind of stern concern he doles out when Klinger starts acting all GI on him.  _This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you and Hunnicutt have spent half the winter bunking up like  scared Cub Scouts on their first time out, would it?_

Hawkeye's stomach drops, and he scrambles for a joke to salvage the tension.  _You mean our two-birds-with-one-brick act to fend off frostbite and piss off Frank?_

_Captain,_ Potter says quietly, his voice so low that Hawkeye can't help but lean in to catch,  _I'm not making insinuations of improper conduct here. You and Hunnicutt are serving in this man's army to the fullest extent of your capabilities in the best years of your lives, which is more than Uncle Sam deserves from you. I've no interest in seeing you taken down over a rumor or an implication, and I don't intend to entertain that sort of gossip from anyone in this outfit. Is that clear?_

Clear as mud, thinks Hawkeye, but he thinks he understands what Potter's getting at. The knot in his stomach loosens somewhat, until he remembers why he's there.

_Colonel...I'm afraid I'm no good for him._

_What do you mean?_

_I mean that he's managed to hang on to a shred of decency in spite of the surroundings, and I'm afraid if I'm around much longer, I'm going to lose it and take him down with me._

Potter sighs.  _Son, you're one of the brightest minds I've met in any outfit, but you've obviously failed to learn the one thing that keeps you alive around here._

_Sludge coffee and an endless supply of nurses?_

_No, it's your buddies, your fellows, your friends. They're the only ones who will ever know what it truly feels like, and they'll carry that for the rest of your life. It's an understanding and a comraderie you won't find anywhere Stateside, and the whole point is that you don't take each other down - you keep each other up. Listen, I think you need to tell Hunnicutt what's bothering you._

_No, I think I need to get AWAY before I completely ruin -_

_Dismissed, Captain._

_You can't dismiss me, I'm not -_

**_DISMISSED, CAPTAIN!_ **

 

Hawk storms back to the Swamp, banging the door so hard the dartboard falls off. There's no one around, for once, and he starts cleaning his side of the tent with an intensity he's never applied before. Potter wants to keep him with BJ? Fine. They may be stuck in the same room, but Hawkeye can build better walls than a bricklayer. There's no way he can let this happen, no way he can ask BJ to give up the home and life Hawkeye's never had. 

If Peg leaves him, he'll never forgive himself.

If Peg leaves him, BJ will blame himself. And Hawk will never forgive himself for that.

He stacks a pile of folded clothing on the chessboard and leaves it between their beds. That's a start. There may be nothing left of him to save by the end of the war, but BJ will have his sunshine. Without any of Hawk's shadow to ruin it.


	3. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which our lovable idiots write a lot.

_My lovely one,_

_Today it hit eighty degrees for the first time since I've been here. There seems to be a lull in the fighting (we must not be in peace talks anymore) and I've been soaking it in. Thanks for sending my other hat; it's useful to have something to keep the sun off my face._

_Today, when you kiss Erin for me, can you toss her in the air and catch her? She was too small when I left, and sometimes, I'm afraid she'll be too big for it by the time I come home. But she should know what it feels like to be flung in the air like that, knowing there's a pair of arms that will always be there to catch you. You'll do that for me, won't you, Peg?_

_I guess despite the recent sunshine, I've been aching for home even more than usual. Not just thinking about Erin getting older without me, but because ~~I'm so lonely I could~~_

_~~I've lost my best friend and I~~ _

_we've been so busy lately that I haven't had a chance to catch a poker game, or hang out with the guys. ~~And Hawkeye won't talk to me, except to throw jokes at me in the O.R. or ask for a scalpel.~~ Even Hawkeye seems to be wrapped up in his own world. I can't remember the last time we had a real conversation. _

_I think about you every day. And on days like this, when the sun seems to be waking up this death-soaked scrap of the world, I almost wish you could be here to see it with me._

_Because wherever you are, I'm home._

_And I'm yours._

_BJ_

 

BJ folds the letter carefully, cursing the humidity that's taken over the camp. He glances wistfully at Hawkeye's empty - and perfectly made - cot. Even after weeks, it seems unnatural. It sends a shiver through BJ. He's been trying to piece together the mystery of Hawkeye's behavior, but it keeps leading him to the same painful conclusions:

_Hawkeye knows he'll never leave Peg and decided it wasn't worth it._

_Hawkeye knows he'll never leave Peg and decided he wasn't worth it._

_Hawkeye never wanted him to begin with and got bored, just like he did with the nurses._

_He never meant that much to him anyway._

BJ has thrown himself into his role as camp prankster, methodically plotting elaborate schemes that involve multiple moving parts, often enlisting help from Klinger or Radar for maximum effect. When the tricks go off, he makes sure he's watching from a semi-concealed spot so that no one catches him watching for Hawkeye's reaction. Sometimes - when the prank is really good, and the coffee is almost drinkable - Hawk's laugh reaches his eyes, and BJ goes weak in the guts. If the only way Hawk can accept a gesture is anonymously, through the armor of semi-cruel humor, then damnit, BJ will make himself a poet in the language.

They're on opposite shifts again, and when Hawk comes to wake him, he never touches BJ anymore. He grabs the corner of his pillow and shakes it gently before saying the same phrase every time - _your turn to play zookeeper._ Sometimes, BJ contemplates rolling over onto Hawk's hand, just to feel him, but never does. When Hawkeye wants him, he'll let BJ know. And BJ can't bring himself to think of the possibility that he'll live out the rest of the war with the only man he's ever fallen in love with treating him like - like a coworker. Even the notion makes him want to curl up and sob, so he doesn't let it through. Before he falls asleep, he names every bone in the human body, then moves on to organs, then to the mechanics of his next prank, anything to keep the memory of Hawkeye's hands, Hawkeye's lips, Hawkeye's open, vulnerable face, naked with that irresistable combination of hunger and disbelief and -  _stop it. Scapula. Sesamoid. Sphenoid. Stapes. Sternum._

So he waits. 

 

_Sweetheart,_

_It started raining again last night. I hope this letter makes it to you before it dissolves completely. Morale has dropped, which is easy when no one's got dry socks._

_I'm beginning to see what they meant by the loneliness of war. Even though I'm hardly ever alone, I feel like I'm just biding my time here, waiting for my real life to start again. Which is, of course, you. And Erin. And our parents. And Waggles._

_You are real. Everything here is as much an imitation of life as the coffee. I just don't know how long I can last in a world with nothing solid to hold on to._

_I love you,_

_BJ_

 

 

**

 

_Dear Captain Pierce,_

_I'm sorry it took me so long to return your letter. Truly. I see now how it must have scared you, or hurt you, or whatever it did to make you cut off your friendship with my husband._

_I admit, your letter gave me pause._

_I admit, your revelations were terrifying._

_I didn't know what to do, Hawkeye._

_I'm not sure I still don't._

_You have to understand - your letter made me feel, for the first time since I met him, like I didn't know my own husband. Can you imagine how frightening that is? How it sparks the very worst of the imagination, and makes you question everything you thought you knew?_

_I've come so close to telling him about your letter a thousand times. To demand to know why he's been lying to me. To tell him he's become a stranger to me._

_It's only recently that I've come to understand what stopped me._

_If I take away the one thing that keeps him whole over there - if it's because of me that he comes home in pieces - if I forbid him from his best friend - then I'm as much a monster as I once imagined you to be. How in the world could I take that from him?_

_Who in the world would I be to him, then?_

_I don't know what you've done to cut him out, but you're a surgeon. You need to start stitching yourselves back together before either of us loses him completely._

_Fix it, Captain Pierce. I am not losing him to the war. I ~~would rather lose him to you.~~_

_Sincerely,_

_Margaret Hunnicutt_


	4. Fall

BJ trudges out of the OR, boots slippery and still dripping red, his head low. Two boys dead on his table and three more are barely a coin toss in Post-Op. BJ never wants to talk after a bad night. He strips off his gloves and throws them on the floor with disgust before collapsing on the bench against the wall, forehead pressing into the heels of his hands. 

Hawk doesn't realize exactly what a rough night it's been for him - he was on the other side of the O.R., cheating death as fast as he could, barely stopping to joke or let one of the nurses mop his brow. BJ's not sure if he's had a similarly bad night, but they've both been in the O.R. for at least twelve hours, and the odds aren't great. 

The door swings open, and BJ recognizes the footsteps before he sees the similarly bloodied boots pause at his feet. For a moment, neither of them say anything. He feels Hawkeye's hand on the back of his head, gently  scratching the nape of his neck the way BJ likes it, and wants more than anything to let himself melt into Hawk's arms, to let him kiss the wretched night away.

But BJ can still see shrapnel and blood when he closes his eyes, and shudders at Hawkeye's touch. Some nights are beyond repair.

Potter comes through the door next, and BJ hears the low rumble of his exhaustion.  _Did he fall asleep?_

 _No_ , he hears Hawkeye say softly.  _Unfortunately for him, he can't wake up from this._

 _He needs a shower and forty winks,_ Potter says softly.  _Get him there, Pierce._

_Yeah, I got him, Colonel._

The small patch of floor that BJ can see fills with Hawkeye's knees as his comrade kneels to meet him.  _Beej?_ A tentative hand on BJ's shoulder, warm and reassuring and not even trembling after all those hours.  _Let's get you cleaned up._

Hawk knows better than to expect BJ to speak. He must've lost more than Hawkeye saw - every time he loses a patient, BJ locks up, hard. The more he loses, the longer it hurts. Hawkeye's only seen him like this a few times before. He holds his position on the dirty hard floor, not moving until BJ is ready to get up. This has to happen on his own terms. He can't drag him through it. 

BJ's whole body is heavy and dull. The effort of moving seems insurmountable, but he knows that Frank will be out next, and the only thing worse than moving right now would be hearing Frank's commentary about it. He drops his hands to his knees and pushes himself off the bench, scrupulously avoiding Hawkeye's eyes. He can't, not tonight. It's just too hard.

He staggers and shuffles his way out of the O.R., smacking his shoulder on the doorframe as he leaves. Hawk is right in step with him, pulls him in close as they move across the camp, same way BJ holds him after a long night at Rosie's. They stop at the shower tent first. Hawk sits BJ down on the bench and promises  _I'm going to get your stuff. I'll be right back, I promise. Okay?_  

When Hawk returns, BJ looks up for a minute. Hawk's arms are full of towel, robe, kit bag and washcloths, so he can't gather BJ into his arms and will the life back into him. He lays out the supplies quietly. There's a knock at the door.  _Pierce? Hunnicutt? You in there?_

 _Yeah, Colonel, what is it?_ Hawkeye answers.  _I'm about to get him into the shower. I'm calling it the world's worst marionette show, and it'll be a three-week run in Vegas._

 _Just checking,_ comes the answer. And then a pause.  _You all right, Hunnicutt?_

 _Sorry Colonel, he's indisposed at the moment,_ Hawkeye replies.  _He's taken a vow of silence and has sworn not to speak until the war's over._

Potter gives a soft  _hrrmph_ from the other side of the door. 

_Colonel?_

_Yes, Pierce?_

_Can you give us a little, uh privacy? I don't mean you. I mean maybe you could ask the others to steer clear of this spot for awhile. He's in a bit of a bad way._

_I can do that. You need anything?_

_Just time, Colonel._

They hear his footsteps fade and Hawkeye puts on his quietest, most bedside-manner voice.  _Beej, I'm going to take your cap and scrubs off, okay? Let's get you cleaned up._

BJ doesn't help exactly - he wants to, he can't stand it when Hawk has to take care of him like this. When he's too weak to carry himself. When he's a burden. But boneless passivity is the best he can muster as Hawk wrestles his shirt over his head. Hawk loops BJ's arm around his neck and helps him stand as if he's wounded, using his other hand to awkwardly slide BJ's bottoms off. 

It's a lousy dance. But damn if they're not partners.

Crooning soft encouragements into the silence of the tent -  _that's it, attaboy, come a little more this way, I've got you, I've got you, that's it, Beej -_ Hawkeye turns the water on and waits for it to get warm before he guides BJ into the stall. The water sluices over him, steaming as BJ's shoulders sag. 

At first, Hawk tries to hand him the soap, but realizes he's going to have to get him all the way through this one. With a cautious glance at the door - Potter DID promise - Hawkeye strips down and slips into the stall. 

He works the soap and washcloth methodically, realizing he's following the same pattern he uses when he's scrubbing into surgery, briskly lathering BJ from neck to waist. Their dog tags clink as he reaches around to get BJ's back. And that's when he feels BJ's head on his shoulder, seeking contact. 

Hawk drops the soap and does what he's been dying to do for the last hour: he wraps BJ tightly in his arms under the warm spray, rubbing deep circles into the younger man's back.  _I've got you. I've got you. Beej, I'm here. I'm here_ and somewhere in the litany of reassurance BJ starts to break open. He moans into Hawk's neck, low and choked with pain.  _I know, Beej. I know. You're here. I've got you. I know it hurts, but I've got you._

BJ sobs, and it is the most broken, wrenching sound Hawkeye's heard from a living man. He kisses the side of BJ's head and keeps talking. That's what Hawkeye does - he spins words like a cocoon around the people he loves most until they feel protected. Safe. 

BJ's scrabbling now, his hands grasping at Hawk's back, and reaching lower, and pushing Hawkeye toward the back of the stall.  _Whoa, Beej_ , Hawk starts to say _,_ but before he can get anything else out, BJ is kissing him furiously, all teeth and scruff, his hands slipping up to grip either side of Hawkeye's head and pull him in closer. As they reach the wall, BJ keeps pushing, and Hawk's startled to realize they're both hard, and he's aching for this, didn't know he needed it, didn't realize the body count was on his shoulders, too. He kisses BJ - his Beej, his comrade, his everything - with an intensity to match, letting himself lean into the kiss, slipping his hand into BJ's hair for a good grip. 

BJ roars as Hawk starts pulling, fighting to keep his lips on Hawk's, savoring the intensity of it. Hawk knows. When it's hardest, when he's numb and shut down, the pain helps. The sharpness wakes him up, brings the life back. Life is BJ's grip on the scruff of his neck. Life is BJ's teeth sinking into the soft spot where his neck meets his shoulder. Hawk gasps to keep from howling. Still pinning him against the wall, BJ moves down and down, slowly kissing and biting his way down Hawk's torso and Hawk throws his head back, panting with tears on his cheeks. BJ lingers at Hawkeye's hipbones, running his tongue down the ridge of them, leaving bruises where his hands grip Hawk's waist for balance, moving further and further down.

 _Beej, wait._ Hawk looks down to find his lover on his knees looking for all the world like he's about to swallow Hawk whole, and Hawk wants it so badly he can practically feel BJ's lips already, but he forces himself to speak.  _You sure?_

BJ nods, not looking up.

_Beej. Look at me. I can't do this if you won't look at me._

BJ shakes his head.

_I can't let you do this. Believe me, I want this, I want you - I want you like this, but I can't - not when you're not you. Not when you're not here. Please, Beej._

BJ steadies himself, resting his forehead on Hawk's thigh. A long moment passes. The water's starting to cool. Finally, BJ looks up, and the pain on his face is palpable, but he's  _there,_ he's back from whatever hell he locked himself into and he nods at Hawkeye, meeting his eyes for the first time. Hawkeye looks back at him intently, searching for whatever sign he needs that this is really okay, that BJ wants this as much as he does - needs this as much as he does, and he gives the tiniest nod as he closes his eyes and BJ takes him in his mouth.

It's everything Hawk can do not to thrust, shove, or jerk his hips toward BJ's throat. He's been dreaming of this - literally - for months, and didn't want to push, didn't want to do anything BJ wasn't ready for, anything that would make him regret Hawkeye. He held back, and waited and waited, and now the man he loves is on his knees for him and his mouth is impossibly hot and soft, and it's clear he's never done this before, which just makes it  _hotter_.

BJ sucks and slurps and what he lacks in rhythm and consistency he makes up for in enthusiasm and creativity, swirling his tongue and peppering Hawk with featherlight kisses until a dizzied and desperate Hawk slides a hand into his hair and shows him how he likes it - slower, and deeper, careful not to go back too far, and BJ gets into it with the devotion of a dedicated student, hollowing his cheeks letting Hawk guide him, letting his lover take him as he so needs to be taken and Hawk quickly feels himself approaching the edge, shaking and gasping, BJ's hair deep in his grip. He pulls BJ off him as he starts to lose himself, shaking and gasping and whisper-screaming  _Beej - Beej - oh Gd, BJ_ \- and the sound of his full name on Hawkeye's lips unravels BJ, hand flying over his cock, grunting low and wanting, the need - that eternal fucking spring - burning through all the numbness of the last hours, days, weeks.

By the time they can peel themselves away from the wall, the water's turned icy. They do a slapdash job rinsing and race back into their clothes. This time, as they head for the Swamp, Hawkeye leans on BJ, and they collapse on their cots as soon as they get inside. BJ reaches across the space between them, which is still piled with Hawkeye's attempts to keep himself out of BJ's arms. Hawk reaches back, looks BJ dead in the eye and promises  _I'll fix it in the morning. Promise._ BJ nods, closes his eye

As Hawk rolls over and begins to drift off, he offers a - thought? a prayer? a promise? - into the chilling night air.  _I'm not letting him go, Peggy. I promise. I'll always find him. I'll make sure he finds his way home. I owe you that much._

**Author's Note:**

> I swear, I was aiming for plot, and I'm going to get there, they just...happened to fall into bed first.


End file.
